3,000 Miles Away
by shallowness
Summary: Jesse would tweet something about being so proud of hearing Beca's song on the radio for the first time. Post Pitch Perfect 3. Jesse Swanson, Jesse/OFC, past Jesse/Beca.


Author's Note: Spoilers for Pitch Perfect 3. Maybe don't read this while eating.

**3,000 Miles Away: shallowness**

The trouble with working from home is that you're the one who has to take the cat to the vet. Jesse didn't need the note on the chalkboard they had on their refridgerator, he remembered Duckie puking last night. Vividly. Their cat only placed second to Audrey Posen when it came to vomiting.

He made the call and got an appointment while drinking his first coffee of the day.

"Hey, little fella," he murmured when it was time to get going. "I'm just going to put you in the um, palanquin."

Even though Duckie knew what palanquin was code for, the cat didn't give him any bother, which was proof that something was still wrong. Jesse carried the cage as gently as he could.

After a recent visit, Benji had claimed, "That cat is the new me", which wasn't strictly speaking true. But Jesse and Duckie spent a lot of hours together, Jesse composing, and totally not procrastinating or watching DVDs, Duckie putting up with him to get fed. Alyson had started taking pictures of them and posting them everywhere.

Most of the money Jesse earned from his composing gigs went on his equipment and what he grandly called his studio. The landlord called it a second bedroom/office. This meant that the car he drove was old. Alyson hated that they had two cars, but they lived in LA, so what else could they do?

Its age meant that his car had a radio with a dial, which Jesse counted as a bonus. He could listen to country, R&B, top 40 or rock, depending on his mood. His music tastes were as eclectic as ever. His favorite genre was soundtracks, after all. Jesse turned the dial to a classical station, hoping it'd help soothe the sick feline behind him, but they were playing opera, so nope.

He glanced apologetically at the rearview mirror.

"Top 40 it is," he told Duckie, who didn't care. Jesse pulled out of his parking space onto the road. He'd been to the vet's a few times since they'd taken on their rescue cat, and had allowed plenty of time for the journey, but today the traffic was actually moving. Miley's latest slice of heartbreak came to an end and the DJ promoted some competition the station was running, and then he said, "Now for something fresh from an up-and-coming superstar," and Jesse heard the name "Beca Mitchell."

"No way," he said quietly, although he'd heard about the Bellas' European trip and Beca's record deal through Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. He'd seen messages that she was working on new material. So, maybe he'd chosen not to click on video clips to watch her. He couldn't articulate why. Alyson wouldn't have minded. Probably. He'd thought about it, when Alyson wasn't at home, but then that made the whole thing seem even weirder – he should totally be watching his ex perform while his current girlfriend was around to witness it. Except he never did that either.

But then he heard Beca's voice through his car's speakers, a voice he could never forget. You couldn't, not when you were musical and the singer in question was your first love.

He'd moved on, and he'd even started to think Aly might be forever, but hearing Beca's vocals on loop, creating something magical, made him smile. He would tweet about it while he was waiting at the vet, because hearing your friend on the radio – this would be how he'd phrase it – for the first time was big. He would say he was so proud of her. That was appropriate for an ex. No boundaries being crossed.

But as he listened, Jesse wasn't just proud, he was a whole heap of things. He had always been the one with emotional intelligence in their relationship, and once the song ended, he started to unpick his feelings.

Beca wasn't just his friend, after all. She was his ex, and things had ended civilly, with both of them blaming the long distance, not each other, but hearing her sing her own material, opening up a part of her to anyone listening, meant a lot. She sounded amazing, and he knew she'd have worked her butt off in the studio to get the track to sound exactly how she wanted. And this was what she'd always wanted, however much she'd pretended otherwise.

He remembered just watching Beca with her headphones on, absorbed in creating a new mix on her laptop. He'd thought she was adorable then, but he'd never underestimated her passion for what she was doing.

He hoped that whoever was running the Barden radio station now gave her the airplay she deserved too. And then he heard this station's jingle and thought about how this was real, how his Beca was getting played nationwide.

Jesse turned the radio off then, which was unusual for him, but what could top hearing Beca? He let himself think about the girl he knew, about how every smile he'd got out of her was a win, about watching her lose herself in the music on a stage, about listening to her hum and joining in late at night. He didn't often think along these lines, Alyson and his work kept his life full. He wasn't unhappy, and when he wasn't living in the here and now, he had plenty to look forward to. But as he reached the parking lot outside the vet, Jesse admitted that maybe he'd always known that Beca was going to be a star. She was going to shine so bright.

And he was going to carry Duckie in his palanquin as gently as he could, and hope the vet could fix his buddy up. He quietly started humming Beca's track.


End file.
